


Come Fly With Me

by AccioMjolnir



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:54:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27127498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccioMjolnir/pseuds/AccioMjolnir
Summary: Flying doesn't seem like such a bad idea when you take into consideration how the offer is made.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	Come Fly With Me

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this in 2004; in digging through my old files, I found it and decided to brush it up. This could really fit anywhere in the canon, though to me it feels right in late fifth year.

The rain was pouring heavily over Hogwarts, the sun fighting valiantly to break through any cracks in the cloud cover, but quickly losing its grip on the landscape beneath. As the sun gave up and moved on above the storm, it took with it any semblance of light, leaving the grounds in a soggy, dark state. Any hopes of seeing the moon that night were dashed before they were fully materialized.  
  
Draco Malfoy was in the Great Hall, playing with his food and generally avoiding any contact with humankind. He felt like it was easier to live life without people around him, and at times, he even wondered what it’d be like if he was the only one in all of Slytherin house. This particular evening, he was wondering which of the young witches in Hogwarts he would keep as company in an empty castle, in case it ever happened that the rest of the students suddenly disappeared.  
  
He scanned the room while jabbing his meal with a fork. He hadn’t taken more than two bites of it and it was starting to get cold, but he didn’t mind. He wouldn’t be eating it anyway.  
  
Hermione Granger was sitting at the Gryffindor table, her nose in a book, one hand scratching away with a quill on parchment while the other held a fork over a plate of food that was probably just as cold as Malfoy’s. Whatever homework she was working on, it was keeping her from her meal. Draco assumed she did this often, judging by her thin frame.  
  
For whatever reason—Draco figured he would worry about _why_ later—he stood up from the table. His plate disappeared as he walked away from it.  
  
"Granger," he spat, a little more harshly than he’d intended. He wouldn’t feel bad about it, it wasn’t in his nature. Even when she looked at him scornfully.  
  
"What do you want, Malfoy?" her tone was flat, and she returned her gaze to her book before he answered.  
  
"A favor."  
  
"Why would I do you a favor?" Hermione scoffed, turning back to her parchment. Malfoy rolled his eyes and pulled his wand out.  
  
" _Accio, quill._ "  
  
"You prat! Give that back!"  
  
"After you hear me out."  
  
"I'll just get another."  
  
"If you were going to do that, you’d have done it already," Draco reasoned. Hermione gave him a resentful look. "Now, about that favor."  
  
She sighed and then looked up at him expectantly. "What is it, Malfoy?"  
  
"I was thinking. Do you ever fly on Potter’s broom with him?"  
  
"What does that have to do with—"  
  
"Go flying with me," Draco interrupted. "I wager you’d have much more fun on a Malfoy broomstick than you would on Potter’s."  
  
"You’re mad."  
  
"If you want your quill back, you’ll do it."  
  
"Keep it, then. I have another."  
  
"Come fly with me," Draco said, and then he leaned over the table and ran the feathered end of Hermione’s quill under her nose. A small half-smile played across her lips, but she straightened out quickly enough. After all, she wasn’t supposed to smile about things Draco did. It was against her nature as a Gryffindor.  
  
Or was it against her nature as a friend of Harry’s?  
  
She hesitated for another moment or two as Draco ran the end of her quill along her the side of her face, his eyes bright and his mouth turned up on one side in a flirtatious hint of a smile.  
  
"You’re such a tease," she said, standing up. She gathered up her books.  
  
"I’ll take that as a yes?"  
  
"It’s pouring out there, Malfoy."  
  
"You’ve gone to Quidditch in the rain before," he argued.  
  
"That’s different."  
  
"Why, because you’re not on the broom? Is this about Potter?"  
  
"Not everything’s about Harry," Hermione retorted, a little too quickly.  
  
"So it _is_ about Potter."  
  
"I’ll fly with you, Malfoy, if you swear not to drop me off the broom."  
  
"I wouldn’t dream of it," Malfoy replied, though he often had. He offered Hermione his arm, but she refused, cradling her books to her chest protectively.  
  
"I’m going to take my books to my room first," she said, moving quickly.  
  
"I’ll meet you, then. In ten minutes," he called after her. Hermione waved a hand back at him, and he wondered if she was always this difficult.

In ten minutes he found himself in the front hall, waiting for her. She was drenched before she even got on his broom.


End file.
